Loss
by MistressMaryD
Summary: Another in the "Department Affairs" universe. The aftermath. What becomes of Mary Shepherd after the end. Obviously written before the events of RE6 are known


Oneshot: Loss

"_Peel the scars from off my back, I don't need them anymore. Throw them out; keep them in your mason jars. I've come home."_ Radical Face – "Welcome Home"

"_Another long hard day of you wasting away. I'm so tired of hearing 'I'm gonna change'. When it goes to hell; who're you gonna blame? It's a long way home, you won't get there on your own." _Silent Hill Downpour Soundtrack – "Heaven Won't Hold It Against You"

The late afternoon is cold and gloomy.

A storm rumbles in the distance, ominous weather reflecting a lone woman's inner turmoil.

She pulls her black coat up and hugs it tighter around her shoulders. She feels too exposed here, like old wounds are tearing open with every step. They're raw and a long way from being healed. She holds her chin up and grits her teeth as thunder rumbles and the wind blows flowers left behind by loved ones at the headstones she passes.

She silently swallows a sob.

Her booted feet come to a stop at a plain headstone. No flowers decorate the grave. No trinkets or mementos. Just a simple stone that reads: Albert Wesker. Husband and Father. 1960 – 2009

Tears threaten to fall, but she keeps them back; imagining how he'd feel knowing she was crying over his grave. But…he didn't feel anything about it, because he was dead. He left her amidst the empire he struggled to rebuild and the enemies he'd made in his wake.

And she didn't feel bitter.

She felt alone.

She holds a fist to her lips and sobs; sinking to her knees over his grave and bowing her head in defeat. She cries for only the second time since he died. And it feels like a massive weight is being lifted from her chest as she sobs; damning him for his recklessness, for leaving her, for not being content with what he had. Damning his ambition. Damning Chris Redfield for delivering the finishing blow. Damning herself for not seeing the danger in time; so caught up in his plans.

She swears; asks a god she doesn't believe in 'Why?' Asks herself 'Why?' Why didn't she try to stop him? Why did she think they were invincible? Why did she let her life of power and grandeur blind her to the danger that loomed over their heads? Because she was as power hungry as he was. She was just luckier. This time.

She was so used to having him by her side, looking to him when she didn't know what to do; she didn't know how to help herself through her grief.

Thunder rumbles again, louder. Clouds roll in darker than before. She doesn't rise. She can't. She does bring herself to reach into her coat pocket; producing two items. She sets down a pair of black sunglasses and a Captain's badge: His S.T.A.R.S badge. She wipes her eyes with the heels of her hands, but they don't stay dry; she's not done mourning yet.

She tries to rise once, and fails; arms and legs shaking too much to support her weight. She stifles a whimper; feeling too weak and far too pathetic. She just wants to disappear.

She tries to stand again, using the top of his headstone as leverage. A large hand gently takes a hold of her bicep and helps pull her to her feet. Red, swollen eyes look up to the kind, not-stranger.

Jake Muller doesn't let go of the grieving woman; nor does he himself grieve for the father he never knew. "Come here," He wraps his arms around the brunette and hugs her gently; knowing she needs it. "You cry all you need to." She needs to hear it.

He won't shed a tear for the father who abandoned him (and his mother); but he can't bring himself to hate the man's accomplice; although he's tried. He hasn't known her long; they first met years after Albert Wesker had passed. His interest piqued due to an off-hand comment he received on his last big mission. What little he could find of Wesker lead him to Mary Shepherd. And she told him everything else he wanted to know; to the best of her abilities. At the time, it seemed she was equally surprised to learn of his existence.

Maybe that's why he couldn't hate her. That absolute transparency she offered him. He wondered sometimes, how she ended up with the kind of man Wesker was. She explained that when he asked. He still wondered, but; he reconciled himself to the thought that there just had to be something she saw in Wesker that nobody else did. He could've corrupted her for all Jake knew. But after her story, he didn't push the envelope.

Meanwhile, Mary's hands fisted in Jake's jacket and she rested her head on his shoulder; sobs almost silent now. "I know you don't want to be here," She managed, voice terribly horse and choked. "But I'm glad you are. Thank you." Jake was shocked into silence for a few seconds. Seeing her breakdown was surprising enough; since he was used to her unshakable calm, and sometimes cold, demeanor. What he was seeing now, however, told him that was a front. She was a bitch to the rest of the world because she had to be; it was how she protected herself. How she survived the cut throat business of black market bio-weaponry. But now, she was like anyone else; wounded by the death of a loved one. She was so fragile.

Part of him was jealous that he couldn't have had a father as a child; but this woman had the same man as a lover for decades. He could love her; but he couldn't have loved his son.

But in the end, he knew he turned out just fine without him. He was successful and good at what he did. He was self made and proud of it. And that thought brought about a pang of pity for the woman in his arms; who'd been brought so high only to fall with her accomplice.

True, she still controlled what was left of Umbrella's and Wesker's resources; something she told him herself, and she was working to build her own legacy. But he knew, even not having known her prior to his father's death; that she was not the same person.

He counted himself lucky that he wasn't in her shoes. That he had no broken pieces to pick up.

"Tell me about it; when you were cops." Jake requests, glancing at the badge before turning and gently guiding her away from the lonely grave; before the rain got them both. He knows that'll distract her long enough to get back to his bike. She gives a choked laugh. She knows what he's doing. "Before he was an asshole; you mean?" She asks, sniffling. He chuckles. "Yeah." He replies, winding an arm over her shoulder.

He can't help his curiosity. And she's more than happy to talk about it.

They're both aware of how broken Albert Wesker left them. The man had a talent for that.

"One second, then we'll leave. I promise." She tells him. He nods, letting her slip out from under his arm and take the three steps back to the headstone. His eyes follow her. She kisses the palm of her hand and sets it on the top of the polished stone. "Goodbye, Al. I love you."

Jake turns away so she doesn't see him watching; letting her have that moment. She inhales deeply and composes herself with that breath. She straightens up, wipes her eyes and manages a weak smile as she joins her friend and they start to depart.

"So, he actually hired me; straight outta college. And he was the worst fucking boss ever." She starts, falling into step with the mercenary. Her lips curl in a genuine smile as she recollects. Jake laughs softly. "Ya don't say?" He asks sarcastically. She laughs as she fondly tells her story about her old job, her partner Brett and the pranks they played on the team.

Her wounds will heal. With the help of the son her lover abandoned and the ass-kicking young woman Sherry Birkin grew up to be.

It's funny how things turn out sometimes.


End file.
